


Good Luck

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Comfort, M/M, Trans Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Trans Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, binding safety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9607124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Everything Junkrat had gained so far had been through his own lone efforts. But maybe, just maybe, something special and otherworldly and way out of his control had been in charge when he met Roadhog.





	

Destiny always had an odd sense of humor in Junkrat’s life. He never knew if his luck was too much or too less.

He was born in the middle of nothing and among junkers who would kill anything and anyone without thinking twice. But he survived and surprisingly made it to adulthood. He developed a great fascination for bombs and fire, for mixing explosives together and building useful weapons from trash, and lost two limbs in the process of indulging his interests. And yet, only two, easily replaced by another couple of his ingenious creations. He didn’t know if he was ever lucky, but he was entirely sure “luck” had nothing to do with him still being alive.

Everything he had gained so far had been through his own lone efforts.

But maybe, just maybe, something special and otherworldly and way out of his control had been in charge when he met Roadhog.

Junkrat was loud and announced everything to the world around him. That’s how the valuable treasure he found became so known around the Outback that he was forced to hire a bodyguard. That’s why he proudly displayed the binder on his chest without anything else to cover it up. He had made it himself out of an old t-shirt and elastics, plus what else he could steal out of a sewing store. He had also improvised his packer the same way, using a sock and a couple of his handmade bombs, gunpowder removed.

The first time Roadhog saw the other junker he’d been using the same rags as he was now. Had it been only for the filthiness of the torn shorts he wore Hog wouldn’t have minded, that’s just how Junkrat lived. But the binder wasn’t just like any other piece of clothing.

The elastic must’ve been even weared out by now, Roadhog thought. He’d had his fair share of experiences with binders when he was younger and clearly remembered not being able to keep one on his body for that long. At least Mako got to abandon those soon, having his top surgery done at a fairly young age. Junkrat was both distrustful and terrified of doctors, and even without that issue in mind it was already hard enough to find any actual medical assistance around Junkertown. Not impossible, but the resources were scarce, and Roadhog didn’t think any of the few doctors there would be especially happy to deal with junkers like them.

“You need a new one of those.” Roadhog told him in one of their stops.

“Huh?”

“Your binder,” he pointed at the fabric covering the other’s chest, “Probably not even working as it should right now.”

“What do you mean? It’s working alright don’t you see it! Feel fine with it.”

Junkrat complained that it was nothing, that his posture and his back pain were much worse than any damage the binder could be doing to him.

It really wasn’t a bodyguard’s duty to be responsible for his boss in that sense. Hog’s own health, his chronic pain and the asthma, the gas mask he had to wear almost all the time were enough for him to worry about. But this… It was different. He’d gone through that, he knew what it felt like. And Mako, when still living in New Zealand, had been lucky enough to have his family, his friends, his _boyfriend_ to help and support him during his transition.

Right now, all Junkrat had was Roadhog.

They were sitting together on the ground next to the bike, eating some mushy canned food they had managed to grab on the last town they visited. Junkrat had an habit of resting his head on his partner’s shoulder after finishing a meal, relaxing against the big, warm body, stretching his long legs on the sandy soil. Roadhog was so used to the other's company by then that he didn't mind the proximity.

“Ah Hoggy… Aren't you tired too? I get all stiff from staying on my sidecar all day long.”

As if on cue, Roadhog brought a giant hand to his partner’s back, rubbing it soothingly.

Junkrat gasped and flinched forward. Roadhog quickly retreated the hand, looking at the other with concern.

“Oh, ah. You want to know what happened right? It was just my back pain! Y’know. From carrying that tire around so much.”

There was no doubt Rat was in constant pain from his posture, especially due to the giant wheel he usually carried on his back, but the direct touch to his ribs making him jerk like that was… From something else.

“You have to take that off now.”

“Take… What’re ya talking about Hoggy?” Junkrat smiled nervously at him.

Roadhog sighed. He reached for the straps on the back of his head to take the mask off. “I’m doing this just so y’know I’m taking it very seriously... I know it’s hell to stay without your binder. Suffered a lot without it myself. But believe me, if you keep it on for this much time like you do now, and if you keep using this old, busted one… It’s gonna be even worse.”

There was an attempt at a sigh, and then a full yelp from Junkrat, both of his hands quickly going for his chest. “I know you're right Hog! And I’m feeling so fucking sore right now but… I can’t…”

Roadhog turned to look at him. Without anything covering his face, those soft brown eyes were looking directly at fiery amber ones. “I promise it’ll be worth it later, Jamie.”

Maybe it was because of his partner's features, usually hidden under the pig mask, that were so comforting to him. Or maybe it was the fact that Roadhog seemed to know everything about being like that more than Junkrat, more than anyone he’d ever met. Everytime his big partner helped him with those issues or told him about his own transition, Junkrat was filled with a rush of warmth... Of trust. It was like Roadhog was specifically sent to be a guide for him.

“Alright, alright, you win. I’ll take it off. But you gotta help me. Feel kinda shitty without it, you know how it is. Don’t know if I should tell you not to look or not. I know you had... Those things too once. On your chest. So you don’t think they’re are a big deal… Right?”

Roadhog shook his head, smiling gently. “Don’t be silly, Rat”.

“You're the best mate anyone could ever ask for you knew that? Now help me get outta this thing.”

It was painful to even take the binder off when feeling like his ribs were practically broken. Junkrat had his back turned to Roadhog, pulling the binder on the front while his partner did the same behind him. Once they managed to get it up to his head and then off Junkrat finally let out a full sigh of relief.

But his body was still sore nonetheless. He had his flesh hand rubbing at the muscles on the side of his rib cage while applying his mechanical, colder one right to middle of his chest. Suddenly though, he felt another pair of hands settling on his back, rubbing it gently just like they intended to do moments before. This time, Junkrat didn’t move away.

“This okay?” Roadhog asked, to which Junkrat gave a quick nod. “Try to breathe. Deeply.”

Those hands were big enough to reach all around his chest, so Junkrat dropped his own and focused on breathing only. Feeling Roadhog’s touches, knowing he was so close to him made something in his chest tingle, something stronger than the pain. From his muscles to his bones he was still hurting, but being taken care of by Roadhog and still being able to relax without his binder on made the situation much more bearable, comfortable even.

Meanwhile, Hog was going on about how they could look for another sewing store to make a new binder, probably a better, safer one. He suggested that until then Jamison could cut one of the old clothes they had lying around inside their storage, make some kind of crop top, if he felt like it would help. They had many pachimari t-shirts that he could use, as long as he didn't ruin the print. Junkrat listened quietly, only letting out occasional pleasure sounds. He thought the change of having Roadhog talking instead felt nice in a moment like that.

“Ah. Okay Roadie, think I feel better now.”

“Good… Lungs were already not feeling right without the mask.”

Junkrat abruptly turned to face him. “What? You big idiot, you gotta take care of yourself first!”

Roadhog laughed, which in turn turned into coughing. Junkrat brought his mask up to his face. Hog strapped it securely on his head once again. “No harm done. And you needed that. You're lucky that binder didn’t do worse on you, didn’t feel any broken bones.”

“Well mate, sometimes I must really have all the luck! What were even the odds of a guy like you ending up with good ol' me? Now tell me," now that they were face to face, Junkrat took the opportunity to place his hands on his bodyguard's chest. “How come you don’t have scars on there, but you have scars all over your face.”

“Was careful after the surgery. Not so much careful with my face.”

“Aw! But you look even more handsome this way.”

**Author's Note:**

> my writing is average at best and i'm aware of that but the trans junkers content won't write itself will it???  
> also i write based on my own experience mostly so i really hope this was at least decent.


End file.
